Breaking Point
by katchfish
Summary: Their insults cut deep, and no one knew how much it hurt. America wore a mask to keep them from seeing his true emotions. He would rather kill his president than have the other nations find out how close he was to the breaking point. Just one more push and he would crumble into millions of pieces.
1. Chapter 1

**Sup guys, anti-pineapples here.** **This is officially my first story ever so please don't rain the hate if I screw up. Wow look at me, talking as if I already have viewers!**

Chapter one

Faces were just a blur as America walked by. Featureless blobs continued on with their daily lives, whether it be studying, working, or relaxing in the confines of their homes. Not one stopped to look at the broken face of a man who used to be their oh so proud country. Not that it bothered him. No, America was used to being ignored. In fact, isolation was what he wanted the most. To get away from the insulting words and cruel remarks. Silence was what he wanted above all else. If only he had been a better hero… then maybe the world would look at him differently and dare he hope, with a little bit of respect.

—

America faced the heavyset oak doors that gave way to the conference room where his tormentors currently sat. Faces flashed before his eyes each speaking different words but meaning the same thing. "America you bloody git, get your fat ass over here!" "You are so lazy aru, you can't even pay me back." "Honhonhon another burger I see? Aren't you fat enough Amerique?"

Shaking his head in order to concentrate, America slowly dawned his happy go lucky mask. It was cracking by the day, but no one cared enough to notice. He only had to stay for three hours, how hard could it be to keep it together for such a short time? Forcing a smile, America strode through the doors and was immediately bombarded by verbal abuse. England screeched at the sight of the teen. "You bastard we have been waiting for you for an hour now! You stupid wanker how were you ever my colony?!" His words hit home, and America felt his mask slowly crumbling. No no no not now! Not yet! He had to stay strong. That's what a hero would do… right?

Looking for something to assure himself, America reached into his pocket to squeeze the cold, metal object residing there. At least his gun was always there when he needed it. The same couldn't be said about his so-called companions. Sucking in a deep breath, America let himself fall back into his daily routine. Act like the insult meant nothing to him. Come up with a witty reply. Continue fighting until Germany starts screaming. Always have a smile. So far, so good.

"England! America! SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" Ah, there it was. He had begun to wonder when Germany would intervene.

Smile still in place America cheerfully left England to fume and walked towards his chair intending to carry out Germany's order. But fate decided that it was America's turn to be subjected to bad luck.

As he strolled past, America's jacket sleeve hitched on the table corner, causing it to ride up. Glaring at the offending sleeve, America jerked it down, becoming frantic at the thought of someone seeing just how bad depression had gotten to him. Thin yet scarring cuts formed orderly rows all up his arm, stopping just below his elbow. Just his luck, the more recent ones hadn't completely healed and were more noticeable than the others.

"America? what are those marks on your arm, aru?" China questioned, having seen the marks just fleetingly.

 _'_ _Of course,'_ America internally groaned. For the first time in the history of G8 meetings it happened to be quiet when that seemingly simple question was asked.

Pulling forth a wide grin, America answered quickly, " Oh those things? Dude, they were totally an accident. I was cutting…. a tomato! The knife accidentally slipped. No biggie!" Oh no, he had answered to quickly. On top of that, America was blabbering. He felt a sinking feeling of dread weigh in his stomach. So much for not being suspicious.

A heavy veil of silence settled over the nations present in the room. After living for more than one hundred years surrounded by people, each country had become quite good at recognizing lies and reading expressions.

"Maybe you can show us the accidental knife cut, da? If, of course, you are willing to put down your greasy hamburgers." Russia spoke, a creepy smile spreading over his face as he began to stride towards the self proclaimed hero.

America froze. Russia didn't scare him, hell no, he would never be scared of that communist bastard. It was the prospect of being found out that sent his mind spinning. This wasn't supposed to happen. They cant know, they don't even care! All they will do is make fun of him!

Panic was evident on America's face, and all of the nations could see it. Completely oblivious to the severity of the situation, they looked on, only hoping that what ever America was hiding, would be interesting enough to relieve each of them of the all consuming boredom of a meeting.

America now positively nervous, began his frantic search for an escape. he scanned the room with his eyes, looking for a door, window, anything! The doors from which he had entered were on the other side of the space. The room had no windows, in order to ensure privacy and security.

America began sweating profusely at the prospect of discovery. To him, this was a matter of life or death. Of endurance or ruin. A matter of control or chaos.

" What's the matter America, burger got your tongue? You git, just spit it out!" England raved. He was quite curious to see what his former colony was hiding.

Closing his eyes, America knew he was left with no other option. Slowly grabbing his pistol, America drew it out of his pocket, and pointed it in the general direction of the other nations. He debated keeping his mask on, but the others had already seen enough. Letting his true feelings show, America's features warped into a emotionless void. Meeting each pair of shocked eyes, America ground out, voice flat.

"Shut. The. Hell. Up."

—

 **Wow I'm exhausted. I know, I know, the ending was pretty sucky. But that is just one of the things will have to improve on! I will probably update this within the span of every week, or less. Ha listen to me, once again talking like I'm going to get reviews. If I do, then I promise, updates can be guaranteed!**

 **Hasta la pasta,**

 **~ anti-pineapples**


	2. Chapter 2

**Holy crap. I. Got. Reviews. *cue internal explosions* Faith in humanity officially restored.**

 **I got too excited at the fact that people took the time to read this so I stayed up super late to write out chapter two early!**

 **If anyone has any ideas about the future of this story, feel free to share! I'm always open to new ideas and would really appreciate the help.**

 **Please tell me if this chapter isn't any good. Constructive criticism is wanted!**

 **Please Review!**

Chapter two

The rest of the G8's expressions were comical to watch. The look of utter confusion and befuddlement on several of the nation's faces almost made America smile. _Almost._

Before America would be rolling on the ground laughing, but nowadays he had forgotten what laughing sounded like. He had forgotten how to smile.

Oh but how he reveled in the silence. To America, it was peaceful and serene. It also gave him time to think.

Carefully mulling over the words that had formed in his head, America cautiously spoke. He could not, _would not,_ mess this up, for if he did, his 'friends' would revert back to their old ways of tearing him down.

" I wish you would all just shut up. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Why me?! Why do you always single me out for my mistakes?!"

Ah crap. America could tell he was getting worked up, but frankly he didn't care. Not in the slightest. He would tell, no, make the others listen to what he had to say. If a couple tables got flipped in the process, so be it.

" America," England began hesitantly. "What are you-"

" You know exactly what I'm talking about!" America interrupted, the gun in his hand trembling slightly. " Every. Single. One of you! I am sick and tired of being called fat, lazy, gullible, and stupid! Hell, I won nearly every war I started or entered. I have helped you so many times, and some of you wouldn't even be alive without me!" America's voice was steadily climbing higher, reaching a hysteric shriek.

"And, I'm still insulted and mocked! IS IT A CRIME TO WANT TO KNOW WHY?!"

Now the gun was positively shaking and America nearly dropped it. He felt something cold drip down his cheek. A tear? One? Two? When did they get there? _'No Matter.'_ A voice in his head spoke. _'You are not done yet. Tell them how you really feel.'_

America took an unsteady breath and began again, slightly less loud.

"I've been trying, okay? But lately, it's became so hard to block it out." America growled, eyes flashing. Grinning with his fake, plastic smile, as he made his way through the crowd of frozen nations.

None of them were sure what halted them from reaching out. Was it the insane look on America's face or the way he held his gun? Was it his broken posture or the way America strode to the doors with a purpose? What about the tears that were so evident on the broken superpower's face? The reason didn't matter, but the fact that none of the nations cared enough to stop him fueled America even more than his self loathing ever could.

As soon as America reached the doors he stopped and studied them before turning around. They weren't even made of real wood. Just cheap tile made to look like oak grain. The doors were fake, just like himself.

Now in place of the painted on smile was an expression not one nation expected to see on America. His face screamed of a plea for help but at the same time a warning to stay away. America's eyes that were once filled with light and cheer, where now devoid of life and filled with hopelessness.

" I hope I can do something right for once." America sighed. "Think of this as a favor, or parting gift, I guess."

The hand holding the gun that was once hanging limply by America's side was now pressed against his temple. Once again dawning his shit-eating-grin everyone hated so much, America spoke one more time, tears now flowing freely over his pink tinged cheeks.

"I hope this makes you happy. Will you miss me?"

Ignoring the sudden screams America pulled the trigger of his most valued possession. As the distant yells faded out to silence, he only had time to think one thing before he fell into the abyss humans called 'death.'

 _"_ _Nations can die… right?"_

—

Everything was bright. Too bright. Death was supposed to be peaceful, wasn't it? Where was the quiet and the inky blackness? This wasn't what he wanted! No! America could faintly hear a muted shouting. No, no, no! _'LEAVE ME ALONE!'_ America screamed, but no one heard. All he wanted was warm, black, death. Why wasn't he dying?!

America jerked in his almost dream-like state. What was that? He was so close to fading away but that jolt had jarred him out of lucidity. Another shock flew through America's body. Only this time, it hurt. America felt like his insides were being fried. What were they doing, why can't he just—?! Another shock went coursing through him and the pain was excruciating. America would prefer anything, _anything,_ over this.

Once again America heard shouting but this time he could make out the words being spoken.

" 1… 2… 3… Clear!" Oh no. America barely had time to brace himself for the defibrillators that were shoved onto his bare chest; not that it did any good. How can one prepare themselves for defibrillators if they have never had any near death experiences?

At this fourth shock, America's heart gave a wild leap and his eyes flew open. He felt like screaming, why wasn't he dead?! America began flailing trying to escape the clutches of the horrid people who brought him back from his rest. Those doctors ruined his life. What had happened to happiness is the key of life? How does one even live a life of unhappiness? Well, he was about to find out, wasn't he?

This thought only made America struggle harder. Thrashing like a fish out of water, he could feel the doctors loosing their grip. Yes, yes, yes! Freedom! The prospect of getting away excited him, until America felt a sharp prick on his neck. America's surroundings slowly grew to resemble liquid. _'A really thick liquid.'_ America mused. _'Almost like trying to swim through maple syrup.'_ He thought, his mind wandering to his younger brother. He could faintly remember Canada being at the meeting, or was it just his polar bear?

Moving about was getting harder and harder. Lifting his arms was exhausting. America could no longer feel his legs. Shit, what did those monsters inject him with?

Right before the murky veil of sleep settled over America, he looked up and squinted. Were those… caterpillars? Were they… _talking_?"

 _"_ _Damn, I must be going crazy."_ America thought in his last moments of consciousness. If only he had been able to stay awake for a few more seconds America would have heard that indeed the caterpillars _were_ talking.

 _"_ _I'm so sorry….."_

 _—_

 **Well, I hope this wasn't too terrible. My theory on nations is that they cannot die unless all of their people are dead or their land takes a serious hit. Unfortunately, America didn't know that since it was his first suicide attempt. Let me know, did any of this hit you in the honey nut feelios?**

 **Also, in case you didn't get it, the caterpillars were England's eyebrows.**

 **As always, ideas and constructive criticism are welcome! And if you just have something nice to say, don't hold back! I've been told that my ego is the size of earth, but hey, it still has room for growing!**

 **Hasta la pasta**

 **~ anti-pineapples**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello to my currently very few readers! This chapter is going to be a little different, I am going to write the POV's of England, Canada, and Russia during the first two chapters. I feel like they have the most significant relationships with America and NO THIS IS NOT A ROMANCE FIC. If anything like that is to happen, it is going to be family comfort, for example, brotherly hugs or kisses. Don't get me wrong, we all have our favorite ships but not in this story.**

 **Please review!**

Chapter three

(Russia POV)

It had started out as a normal day, Russia supposed. But then again when you kept the company of personified nations, when was your day ever going to be normal?

Halting in the midst of terrorizing his precious Baltic Trio, Russia turned at the sound of the thick, oak doors being pushed open. After catching a glimpse of who had come striding through, Russia let a creepy smile slowly slide its way onto his face. He still had to pay America back for getting blood stains on his favorite scarf, was there a better time to do it than now?

Lurking in the back of the room, Russia stalked forward, the very picture of a predator about to pounce on his prey. Just as he had gotten close enough, Russia drew his pipe from the confines of this coat ready to slam it on the unsuspecting nation's head. Suddenly he halted, and then smirked. It appeared the monthly session of verbal-abuse-towards-America had begun. These were much more enjoyable to watch. It never seemed to affect America anyways.

 _'_ _What an idiot.'_ Russia thought, and settled down to watch the show. He arrived just in time to watch the capitalist pig and England get into a full blown insult fight, matching each other word for word. As if Russia hadn't seen this before.

Just as the fight had started to get interesting, Germany started screaming at everyone to sit down. In a rare moment of silence, Russia heard China voice the question,

"America, what are those marks on your arm, aru?"

With narrowed eyes, Russia watched as sweat began to bead around America's forehead as he made up a bullshit excuse. He quietly stood up and calmly walked towards the center of the room where America was being confronted.

If there was so much as a sliver of a chance to embarrass his capitalist 'comrade,' then in the name of vodka Russia would take it. If America was showing the slightest hint of weakness, he would exploit it. After all, isn't that what 'friends' did for each other?

"Maybe you can show us the accidental knife cut, da? If, of course, you are willing to put down your greasy hamburgers." Russia spoke, as he internally praised himself for such a well worded statement. All the while, he was still striding slowly towards the paralyzed superpower.

" What's the matter America, burger got your tongue? You git, just spit it out!" Russia heard England rage from behind him.

Yes, America was trapped and all the nations knew it. There was no where to run and no exits to escape. The thought of America being forced to reveal his secret excited Russia, and he began to pace forward more quickly until… America pulled out a pistol.

Russia felt no shock towards the other's actions. After all, how many times had that very same gun been pointed directly between his eyes?

America then began to speak. He raved and ranted, and the longer he went on, the more Russia worried America would do something idiotic. Not that he cared about the younger nation, only G0d knows how much Russia hated him. But if America were to perhaps… _die_ , then who would be brave enough to face Russia? America was the only one Russia found who could match him in strength, wit, and bravery. Russia would be quite _upset,_ to put it lightly, if his only challenger threw away his life.

Luck was on nobody's side today because Russia had waited to long to act. As he had been thinking about America doing something rash, America was in the act of actually doing it. Russia had just turned towards the doors America faced away from before a shot rang out, and blood splattered everywhere.

The meeting room descended into utter and total chaos.

—

(England POV)

 _'_ _That bloody git!'_ England raved, getting angrier by the second. _'Who does America think he is, making us wait like this?! Wanker, wait until he gets here, then I can give him a piece of my mind, that sodding git!'_

Just as England finished preparing his arsenal of swear words, the doors slid open and in walked the nation England most wanted to see. Immediately jumping out of his chair, England stormed over the the entrance, quickly evading France along the way.

"You bastard we have been waiting for you for an hour now! You stupid wanker how were you ever my colony?!"

England said things similar to this every time they saw each other, so why did America look so sad? Blinking, England looked back up again at America's face, only to find his worrisome expression gone. That didn't prevent England from feeling a smidgeon of guilt. But that guilty feeling was completely forgotten and washed away when his ex-colony opened his mouth to hurl an insult right back.

 _'_ _Mockery?! That git should be apologizing for his behavior. In the name of the queen, this wanker is completely unbearable!'_ England thought, and the situation only declined from there.

As a short argument turned into a shouting match, England began to run out of insults. Thankfully, Germany called them to halt. That would have been quite embarrassing to lose to the bloody burger idiot. He turned to stomp off in the other direction but promptly froze when he heard China question America about something on his wrist. He joined the other nations gathering in a sloppy half circle around the accused country.

England stayed focused on America's face as he confronted Russia. He sneered, _'That git deserves what's coming to him. I might as well speed up the process.'_

What England said next would haunt him until the end of his days. Maybe calling out America wasn't such a good idea. He stared dumbly as the superpower began to scream at them all while wielding his trusted pistol at the other nations. England could only look on in shock as the once proud nation strode through the crowd and stopped at the doors.

Only when America raised the gun to his own head did England react. But like all the other nations, he ran forward to slowly.

 _BANG!_

The events that took place after were all a blur to England. He only remembered cradling America's sagging head in his lap, howling out his grief for the whole world to hear. He vaguely remembered Cadana… Canadia… no, Canada screaming and sobbing along with him.

England felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to look up. It was France. The nation of love was also on the verge of sobbing but knelt down to embrace England anyways. Only then did the dam holding back his tears break. Pulling Canada into the hug, the three of the held onto each other, wailing at what had become of their once sunny family member.

—

(Canada POV)

The minute his twin brother walked into the conference room, Canada knew something was horribly wrong. His brother's mask could never fool him. They were twins after all, and Canada could read his brother's emotions as easily as he could chug a bottle of maple syrup.

Before he could make a move however, Germany's command for order was issue and he was forced to sit down. _'Oh no, Russia took my chair again!'_ Canada internally groaned. He was quite fed up by never being noticed or acknowledged. Unfortunately, when he tried to stand up for himself, Canada was never seen or he was to shy and scared to say anything in the first place.

Making his way to the other side of the room to find an empty chair, Canada never noticed China's question towards America. Only when he had found a chair did Canada notice none of the nations were focused on the meeting.

Looking around for the source of distraction, Canada's eyes widened in horror when they landed on his brother. Sure America was sometimes a pain in the maple leaf, but they were still twins. Canada had to get America's perpetrator's attention off of him!

Five minutes after trying to carry out a not-so-distracting-distraction, did Canada look at his brother again. What he saw made Canada want to sob.

"Oh hockey sticks…." Canada shout/whispered as he viewed America point a pistol at the other nations. Canada was frozen as he watched America spill his weaknesses onto the carpet where all could see. Is this really what America felt?

Canada felt a lurking sense of dread crawl its way up to his stomach. After all of these years, America had managed to hide this emotional torrent from everyone, even his twin! Canada was filled with self-loathing. _'I'm a terrible brother! How did I not notice!?'_

Because he was to absorbed in his self hate, Canada failed yet again to notice the drastic turn of events. By the time Canada shook himself, it was too late. He had a running head start on everyone but was to slow to save the light of his life, Canada's twin brother.

He didn't notice the loud sound of a gun firing, or the screams that followed. Canada only had eyes for one thing, America. As Canada skidded to a halt next to his brother's still corpse, he found himself submersed in rejection. America; the bright, happy, and powerful nation, _his brother_ , was not dead. It was unthinkable.

Yet the longer Canada stared, the more realistic it seemed.

"NOOOO!" Canada shrieked letting out a gut-wrenching scream. _'How ironic,'_ He thought dully. _'I'm being noticed.'_

Canada was barely aware of being pulled into a hug, until he wasn't able to see America's still face anymore. Struggling was not an option, the shock left Canada too weak to do anything but fidget. So he simply joined the sobbing mess of nations that once called America family.

—

Canada stared unseeingly at the washed-out pale walls of the hospital room. He knew he should be feeling relief, relief that nations were unable to die unless under extreme circumstances. All Canada felt was a heaping helping of guilt, with a side of despair for desert.

Had he and the other nations really driven America to suicide? Canada was disgusted in himself for not putting a stop to the continuous teasing, and revolted that he had partaken in the act behind his brother's back.

Feeling a warm hand on his shoulder, Canada glanced up to see Japan, America's long time best friend standing in front of him. Japan looked like a mess. To be honest, they all did.

 _'_ _I probably look worse.'_ Canada mused before turing his attention to the man in front of him.

" You should rest Canada-san." Japan spoke softly, tear tracks still evident on his face.

"But-" Japan cut him off. "I swear to you, you will be woken if any happens."

Canada tried to shake his head, but his muscles refused to do his bidding. _'Traitors.'_ He mentally cursed himself. Seeing no other option but to succumb to the oncoming sleep, Canada nodded slowly and began to drift off, still struggling half-heartedly to stay awake in the uncomfortable, plastic chair that was situated by America's bed.

Right before his eyes shut, Canada reached out and grabbed his brother's limp, pale hand and clutched at it like a life line.

After the events that had taken place earlier, Canada was not about to let his brother out of his grasp again.

Not now… not ever.

—

 **Was it any good? I am literally falling asleep at my desk, it's so late. Enjoy the chapter and please review your opinions, I appreciate everything I can get! Also, let me know if this is a good length for a chapter, or if I should make it longer.**

 **Urg I'm outta here (sososo tired)**

 **~ anti-pineapples**


	4. Chapter 4

**Imagine my my surprise when I log on to my account and I find that people have actually followed and favorited my story! I was honestly shocked. Please review to inspire me!**

 **—**

 **| IMPORTANT::::**

 **| If you haven't heard already, Friday the 13th was a very sad and horrifying time and no | one should by no means use it to write new fics about. My heart goes out to every | single person who had relations there or was a victim themselves. The whole world | supports you and are taking action to help. You are not alone.**

 **| On Friday the 13th and the days following, We are** ** _all_** **French.**

 **—**

Chapter Four

Rising to awareness felt an awful lot like a smoldering rod of metal was being pressed to America's brain. Every nerve was on fire, yet he could do nothing but accept the fact that he had to wake up sometime. Unfortunately for him, that time had to be now.

 _Wait, what? Wake up? I'm supposed to be dead! Oh no how will I even look at the others?! Why didn't suicide work?! What's wrong with me?!_

Questions raced through America's head at the speed of light. He couldn't even muster up the energy to care. Nothing could be done, except wake up.

So America did. Each minute he became more aware and each minute hurt like hell. Muffled voices gradually grew clearer and the fog America couldn't see past grew more unclouded. Blinking, he began to listen to the hushed conversation being uttered to the side of him.

"He hasn't so much as twitched in three days. Bloody hell, do you think he will be alright?"

"Of course! He has to be. Without America… my brother-" The voice speaking broke off in favor of taking small, shuddering, gasps.

"There there mon cher Amerique will pull through. And we will be there when he does."

America furrowed his brow, shutting his half-lidded eyes. Could there be a possibility they care about him? No that was to much to hope for. _'As if anyone could care about a retard like me.'_

America's internal musings were interrupted by a breathless gasp.

"America, lad? Are you awake?"

America slowly opened his eyes to see three worried sets of green, blue, and violet eyes looking down at him. With a raspy sigh, America choked out the first thing that came to mind.

"Um.. h-hi."

 _'_ _Oh wonderful.'_ America groaned. _'What a stupid thing to say. Now they will surely tease you for that.'_

To his obvious surprise, the nations surrounding his bed did the exact opposite. Canada and England lunged forward to wrap the bed-ridden nation in a fierce hug. France would have as well, if not for the fact that all of America's upper body was already encased. He settled for kissing America's hand and holding it in a death grip.

All three nations were crying. Whether it be out of joy that America had woken up or depression about what had sent America into a coma in the first place, none of them knew. They each suspected a little bit of both.

Their reactions confused America. Didn't Canada hate him because America was the reason he was always treated like he was invisible? England hated him for the Revolutionary War and everything that had happened since then, right? Why didn't France blame America for his problems with England and economic difficulties?

Not willing to show weakness, America pulled on his poker face and waited for the nations to let him go. It was not a if he could move, let alone push them away.

After what felt like an eternity England moved away to allow France his fair hug-the-life-out-of-America share of time. After ten minutes France and Canada pulled away. America, who had begun to feel slightly claustrophobic was relieved until Canada grasped his hand in an equally crushing grip.

America kept staring at the white washed sheets that encompassed him, unwilling to look at his family's faces. He was afraid at what he would see. Canada would turn his nose up and walk away in disgust. England would sneer and begin to rant about what a vile person America was. France would stare down at him in disappointment and hatred. Once again, the three nations proved America wrong.

"America look at me." His brother whispered. America kept staring at the sheets.

"America."

America's gaze didn't waver.

"America mon ami….. please."

The nation in the bed whimpered but didn't move his eyes from his resting place.

"b-b-brother… please… talk… talk to us. Say s-something… anything!"

His twin's pleading whimper made America flinch and he hesitantly moved his eyes upward. France, England, and Canada's faces showed despair and desperation. The worry lines on their faces showed they had cared and the prominent bags under all sets of eyes showed proof of sleepless nights spent waiting for America to wake up.

Opening his mouth, America spoke. "W-What do y-you want me… want me to say?" He swallowed before continuing on in a stronger voice. " If you want me to apologize I won't,

I-I-I'm just surprised you're here…" America trailed off, unsure of what to say.

" Oh bloody hell. Give us one good reason why the lot of us shouldn't be here. We all care about you so in the name of the queen, why shouldn't we?!" England scowled.

Cringing at the tone of England's voice, America looked down intent on retreating back into his comfortable fortress of silence.

But then, he froze. _'Impossible. Did England just-'_

" W-What did you j-just say? " America's voice began to pitch, taking on a shaky, breathless, tone. " You don't, you never- no that's not possible. S-Stop lying. You don't care about m-me. None of you have e-ever cared about m-me."

The reaction was instantaneous. The tears that flooded France's eyes and threatened to spill over. England's blank look of pure shock and horror before realization set in and the tears fell from his face. What shocked America most was Canada.

The normally soft-spoken nation was blank for a total of seven agonizing seconds. What happened next could easily be compared to that of an erupting volcano.

For lack of better words, Canada exploded.

" WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE'VE NEVER CARED ABOUT YOU?! Why in the whole world would you think that?! Was this whole ordeal because you thought we didn't care? That know one loved you?! Let me tell you one thing Alfred F. Jones and listen well! We are a g0d damn family and you are a stupid moron to ever think we don't love you! Look at us and ask yourself, why do we look like hell?! WE WORRIED FOR DAYS WAITING FOR YOU TO WAKE UP."

Only now did Canada pause to take a breath, before continuing on with his anger induced rant.

"We didn't sleep or eat. We ignored our work and stayed here for you! And us three are not the only ones. The rest of the G8 are sitting in the waiting room! The only reason they all aren't in here is because the damn nurses will only allow immediate family inside!"

America inhaled sharply, glad to see he wasn't the only one surprised at the sudden rampage. England and France were also both shocked at the sudden turn of events. He knew he would get yelled at by someone, but America was excepting it to be England, not his brother who would be shouting.

"Well?! That wasn't rhetorical, why would you think we wouldn't care?!" Clearly, Canada expected an answer, no matter how unwilling America was to provide it.

His twin's accusing stare dug into America's forehead. All the memories of harsh words and cruel sentences came flooding back to him in a tidal wave of despair. He had to appear strong, he couldn't let them know how much their words had hurt and haunted him.

Try as he might, America could no longer keep a grip on the floodgates holding his emotions in.

America began to cry in earnest and desperation. Letting out heart-wrenching sobs he cried even harder when he felt the comforting presence of his family surrounding him. America hated himself for showing his weakness but damn, it felt so good to be comforted. To know his family was there and sharing his pain was more than America could ever hope for.

As the sobs quieted to sniffles America began to speak in a whisper-like voice. " Y-You are always p-putting down my ideas. Y-You then s-started insulting my food and my weight… I don't blame you though. It was all true. A-And it kept getting w-w-worse. I-I thought the only way to make it s-stop was to d-die."

As his words fell into silence, America felt tears on his shoulder, and the crying started up anew.

" Oh my g0d America, I cant believe I-"

"America this is all my blood fault-"

"Amerique I'm so sorry-"

Apologies flooded in a torrent of words and America forgave them as soon as they were spoken. He was so happy to be understood. At the same time deep within his mind, a seed of doubt was planted.

 _'_ _What if they don't actually mean it? What if they are just saying them to give themselves a better image?'_

The more America thought, the more likely it seemed. He looked up when the mile per minute pleas of forgiveness halted.

"America, the other nations need to know about this." England spoke. Much so America's horror, France began to shuffle towards the door. Before he could utter a word in edgewise, France was out the door and on his way to announce their findings.

 _'_ _Oh no this is bad. No more! No more people can know about me! They will call me weak, pathetic, loser! Not again!'_

Fear was evident on America's face and his brother rushed to console the panicking nation.

" Don't worry America, please. They only want to-" Canada stopped speaking when he realized his words fell on deaf ears.

America had no options. He couldn't move, so running was a no go. He couldn't hide, the only thing to crawl under was the sheets and those would do no good. No, America was forced to wait as his imminent doom approached him in the form of pounding footsteps. Clearly this was too important to pay attention to the three visitors at a time rule.

Holding his breath, America braced himself for the coming onslaught of insults. The footsteps coming closer stopped and he could see several shadows through the opaque glass covering half of the door.

Steadying himself for the words to come, America gripped the covers tightly as the rusty door slowly but surely inched its way open.

 _'_ _May the lord have mercy on me.'_

America gulped as five figures made their way into the brightly lit room. The more morbid side of his mind uttered softly in his head.

 _'_ _Let the torture… begin.'_

—

 **Does that count as a cliffhanger? Review please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter has other nation's POV's in it as well. Please review!**

Chapter Five

America gulped as five figures made their way into the brightly lit room. The more morbid side of his mind uttered softly in his head.

 _'_ _Let the torture… begin.'_

—

(Russia POV)

It was at the moment America collapsed did Russia realize that he was worried for that burger loving fool. It was a new sensation for him, after all America was his long time sworn enemy. Arch enemies; as America would say.

As he watched the suicidal country put the gun to his own head and fire Russia felt an oncoming sense of terror and disappointment. America was irreplaceable. He was the only one able to fairly rival Russia. Life would loose most of its challenge without him.

Unlike most nations, Russia was able to remember the scenes that took place after America's attempt at suicide with crystalline precision. He remembered staring down into the pale, dead face of his nemesis noting the blood and the gaping hole at his temple. If one looked closely, they would see the entrance wound already beginning to slowly stitch itself together. Russia knew from personal experience, so he had no need to get a better view.

France, England, and… _Cadana? Canadia?…_ the American lookalike were wrapped in each other's arms, mourning the loss of their family. Looking around, Russia noticed that most nations were crying too. Some were looking on in disbelief, while others stared blankly at the body.

While Russia kept on his emotionless mask of indifference, on the inside he was a swirling torrent of thoughts and feelings.

 _'_ _Are you worried?_

 _No. I hate him._

 _But think of all of the fun fighting yo—_

 _No I am glad that he's dead._

 _Don't lie to yourself. It isn't healthy._

 _I'm not lying I don't care…_

 _Yes you do. Admit it without America life would be dull._

 _…_ _okay.'_

When the brighter of the two voices won the verbal argument taking place in his mind Russia glanced up to check on the still corpse only to find it being carried onto a stretcher by a group of paramedics. _'How long was I arguing with myself?'_ Russia sighed. He would have to work on not getting so distracted.

There was a parade of haggard nations falling into step being the paramedics. Guessing they were all following America to the hospital, Russia joined the line. Now that he had come to terms with his feelings, there was no point in hiding that he worried for America.

Hours turned into days. On the third day, Russia found himself with Japan, China, Germany, and Italy who were all currently situated in the waiting room of the HTTA Emergency Hospital. England, France, and… _Canada_ were currently residing inside America's hospital room. No matter how many fear inducing smiles Russia shot their way, the nurses were adamant on only immediate family being allowed in the room. There was still no word on the superpower's condition.

Russia was worried a lot more about the patriotic nation's mental state than his physical when he woke up. Nation's would heal from any physical wound eventually, (unless it was fatal to their population or land) but a mental scare would take a lot longer to heal. Depression can weigh heavily on a person's soul but when you're immortal, there's no getting rid of it easily.

Two more hours passed. Just as Russia had begun to doze off in his uncomfortable plastic chair, France walked out of America's hospital room. Eager to hear of his fellow nation's condition, he perked up and forced a yawn to the back of his throat. When all France continued to do was stare at the patterned tiles that made up the floor, Russia impatiently decided to hurry the process along.

"Well? You will not be standing there forever, da?"

The wine loving nation jumped, clearly not aware he had been spacing out. He sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. After studying each waiting nation's face, France opened his mouth and began to speak.

(China POV)

China was gently shaken awake by Japan only to find a new nation had entered the room. _'France, finally.'_ China internally sighed. He had followed the operators to the hospital to wait for the suicidal nation's health report. Like everyone else, China was never above insulting America but had once again just like all the others, had grown quite attached to America's cheerful demeanor.

Now the nation that was the life of all meetings was recovering after a failed suicide attempt. China knew from experience that reverting America back to his original self would be hard. He had to deal with Russia's depressed attitude for many years yet China would never think any suicide would go this far. Least of all from America of all people.

With a squirming feeling of dread, China prepared himself for the worst. Unfortunately nothing could have prepared him for the shock and horror that was about to follow France's uttered explanation.

France took a single, shuddering breath.

"It is our fault. We drove America to this. We did. All of us."

The reaction was instantaneous. Not one nation tried to deny it, all of them knew deep within that America's depression was their fault. China's eyes widened not with shock, but with realization.

 _'_ _We did this. I did this. I never— I didn't—'_

His internal excuses were interrupted by France. His declaration was choppy and shaky but determined and unyielding.

"You n-need to come t-talk to him. You need to h-hear what he s-said about a-all of—"

France halted his sentence in favor of gesturing to the space around him frantically.

"—t-this."

The nation's were in varying stages of shock, horror, and worried emotions. China himself was horrified. He was horrified that stuff that they— _he_ had said, would drive America this far.

Glancing around, China noted the other nation's expressions. Italy was openly sobbing, too busy clinging onto Germany to bother looking up. Germany himself looked sad and angry. _'He's probably mad this whole ordeal got as far as it did.'_ China mused. Japan's reaction was heart breaking. He wasn't sobbing like Italy but instead had quiet rivulets of tears streaming down his face. Japan was never one for crying or showing emotion in general but after hearing his small sniffles and viewing his puffy eyes, China figured he might have to reconfigure his view on his former colony.

Russia shocked China the most. Last he checked, Russia and America despised each other. Both nations frequently enjoyed beating each other up and would laugh when harm befell their opposite. But no, Russia looked just as depressed as the rest of them. The scarf wearing nation stayed seated and didn't move an inch. If China couldn't see the slight rise and fall of Russia's chest then he would have guessed the larger nation had frozen. Russia was staring at the pale plaster wall as if he was seeing through it. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were confused and thoughtful at the same time.

As China's eyes completed their scan of the bodies in the room, he noticed France was still standing were he had been when he was speaking. _Oh, right._ France was expecting them to talk to America.

China gulped. This was the last thing he wanted to do. _'Get over yourself. This is your fault and you will own up to it.'_ China mentally berated himself. He had to do this or the guilt would eat at his soul until his dying days.

China was the first to stand up and shuffled after France, only turning back once to make sure the others were following him. As they approached America's hospital door China started to panic.

 _'_ _What do I say?! Oh god, oh god! This is my fault! Do I apologize?! Oh n—'_

China's internal struggle was cut off when France pushed open the door leading to America. It was now or never.

(Japan POV)

It had been so long since he had cried. Japan had thought he had forgotten how too cry. Yet here he was, tears running down his face. As Japan trailed behind the other nations he couldn't help but think America's suicide had been his fault.

 _'_ _I could have done more. I just stood there and watched him get picked on. What kind of friend am I?!'_

It was too soon that Japan found himself in front of America's hospital door. As he stepped into the premise, Japan couldn't hold back a small, barely audible gasp.

America looked terrible. No, terrible didn't even begin to describe America's desolate disposition. The once cheerful nation was void of joy. His eyes once so full of life were dull and empty. Instead of America's wining smile or bright eyes being the first thing that would catch your attention, it was the crisp bandages wrapped around his head that were most prominent. Even though he had been asleep for three days, America looked as if he had been deprived of sleep for weeks. The bags under his eyes stood out like blood on snow.

Thank the lord Japan wasn't the first one to break the silence. In fact, he didn't know if he could without breaking down. Surprisingly it was the bed-ridden nation who spoke first.

"There is n-nothing to t-talk about. It d-doesn't matter. What's d-done is done."

Italy lept forward, latched himself onto America, and buried his head in the nation's shoulder.

"A-America! I a-am s-so sorry! We w-want to t-talk, ve~! P-p-please!"

America sighed an allowed the pasta eating nation to stay attached to his shoulder yet said nothing in return. England, who had been silently spectating spoke up.

"America lad. Let them speak. Listen to them, you might be surprised by what they have to say."

Once again America sighed, only this time he nodded his hesitant confirmation. Japan still didn't trust his voice so he let Russia have the floor while he composed himself.

"America I know what you are going through, da? We can talk about it over vodka if you would like."

America was clearly shocked at Russia's new behavior towards him but his surprised expression turned into a slight upturn of his lips after Russia continued speaking.

"Hurry up and get better. Maybe we can get back to our most enjoyable fights, da?"

Russia walked over to the hospital bed and reached out a hand. Japan readied himself to jump forward but it turns out, for once Russia was not aiming to harm. The cold nation ruffled America's already tousled hair and whispered,

"No more insults. I apologize for letting it get this far."

Even from Japan's standpoint behind Russia he could see America's eyes start to shine with unshed tears. He blinked gratefully at the Russian and smiled thinly before turning to Italy who had long since fled back to Germany's side.

"Italy y-you and Germany didn't do anything wrong t-to me. It's o-okay."

Italy was still too wrapped up in his sobs to reply but Germany was able to speak just fine.

"We may not have insulted you, but we didn't do anything to stop it. We are both extremely sorry. I would also like to apologize for yelling at you at the meetings. My actions may not have been very affecting but they did something. For that I am sorry."

Italy expressed his agreement in Germany's statement by frantically nodding his head up and down, all the while still hiccuping. Japan watched as America's hard gaze softened at the sight of Italy's puffy face and Germany's sorrowful expression.

"Thanks y-you guys. I—, j-just thanks."

Now that Japan had managed to regulate his breathing, he felt it was his turn to step forward. As he did America turned and began to talk to him.

"N-no Japan. You d-didn't d—"

"America-san please let me speak."

Japan could see America was adamant on proving his innocence, but Japan himself was determined as well.

"It's true I never insulted you. But I have been a terrible person, let alone friend. I just stood by and watched you get made fun of. I never o-once s-stopped—"

Japan's throat had closed up. It was hard to swallow and impossible to lift his gaze from the tiled floor. Japan was perfectly content on counting every grain of dirt on the floor instead of glancing up and meeting the bed-ridden nation's eyes.

"J-Japan, come h-here."

Japan was just as surprised as everyone else when he felt his legs push off the tile in the direction of the hospital bed. His arms wrapped around America's neck and he buried his head on the taller nation's shoulder, much like Italy had done minutes before.

The soft cloth of the bed sheets muted out all sounds and made voices barely recognizable. Japan faintly heard China speaking softly, then followed by America's brief response.

Picking himself off of America, Japan muttered a quiet apology which was immediately brushed aside.

Over the course of the next hour, many words were exchanged, and America's view on the other nation's words towards himself over the past couple years were unveiled. After that, more tears were shed and more apologies were issued. Japan was not proud to say that he had been the one to have an emotional break down after hearing America's thoughts for the past decade.

(America POV)

Hours turned into days, and gradually the nations grew more comfortable talking to each other. Now that the nation's had stopped walking on eggshells around America, he began to open up more and really talk about his experiences. Over the course of those days many much needed and heartfelt talks took place. The nations and America agreed to not be so rough on each other anymore and take time to pay attention to other people's feelings. On the outside America whined about how touchy-feely everything was but he was secretly grateful. The torture he had endured for so long was finally coming to an end.

Eventually the day came where America was given the go ahead to leave the hospital. Not wanting to immerse himself amongst people just yet but at the same time didn't want to be left alone, America agreed to have at least one nation staying with him for the next couple months. They all agreed in private America was not to be left alone, at least not for a while.

The morning was a brisk and fresh. It was the ideal day to be let out of the hospital, especially when you've been bed ridden for a week. Seeing the sun shining brightly put America and the other nations in a pleasant mood. The other countries were chatting amicably to one an other. Even England who was capable of finding ugliness in a rainbow was making small talk with Canada over the beautiful scene.

America felt lighter than he had in years. He had friends who cared about him and family that loved him. He had come to terms with his past and he was determined not to let it bother him. America was confident that nothing remotely close to that would ever happen again.

As America stepped outside with his friends and family flanking him, he did something he hadn't done in a long time. America smiled. It wasn't his usual hollywood grin but it was one full of hope and new starts.

For the first time in a long time, things were finally looking up.

 _—_

 **Cheesy ending, How 'bout that.**

 **Please review, hope you liked it.**

 **~ anti-pineapples**


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